Saving You
by prisonerofpotter
Summary: It has been five years since Harry Potter defeated Lord Voldemort and he hasn't forgiven himself for the events that happened. People who care for the boy have been trying everything to save him, but haven't succeded... until he came along.
1. The Man Who Lived

_**I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER  
**this is my first fanfic so please BE NICE WHEN YOU REVIEW XP  
  
_**SLASH AHEAD:: if you don't like... leave!**

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**Chapter 1: The Man Who Lived  
**A fresh snow was lightly covering the ground and a new layer was beginning to fall. Each snowflake caught the reflection of the moon, causing the falling snow to sparkle ever so slightly as it made its way to the ground. The air was cold, and anyone outside would see their steamy breath evaporate into the night sky.  
  
Harry Potter stood by the edge of the river, his hands deep into his robes. He had been standing there for well over an hour and he, only now, had begun to feel the cold upon his skin. He turned around and made his way back into the house at Godric's Hollow.  
  
It had been five years to the day, since the legendary "War of the Worlds" had taken place, where Harry had defeated Lord Voldemort once and for all. It was the winter of his last year at Hogwarts when the school was attacked. Everyone was sent to their dorms, except members of the D.A. and all seventh years. Members of the Order apparated into Dumbledore's office that night, and hand in hand, everyone left his office, prepared for the final battle.  
  
Though prepared was far from what they were, because the casualties of that battle were something no one, not even Harry himself, could be prepared for. Fallen comrades collected at his feet, his own friends among them. It was only a matter of hours before Harry had lost Hermione and Ron, both, to the battle he had caused. 

The guilt he lived with every day from then and after, was a pain Harry had never felt before. Deep in his stomach, a permanent pit was left in memory of his two, and only, true friends. Nothing anyone could say or do could seem to cheer him up.  
  
The wizarding world fell into the debt of the boy who lived. They saw their hero suffer, and they could find no way to thank him for what he had done for them, or to make him happy, something he had never truly been in his whole life. That is how he came upon the house at Godric's Hollow.  
  
The house used to belong to his parents, but Harry was forced to leave it when his parents were killed by the man who gave Harry his scar. It had long since been abandoned, until one day, as a sort of thank you to Harry, Dumbledore and many of Harry's old professors at Hogwarts had presented Harry the house. It was restored enough for one to live in, but nothing was changed, in hopes that Harry could find some closure in the area of his parents, which he had done some time ago. They had worked for months, placing charms, spells, and enchantments around the house that would protect Harry.  
  
Harry was speechless at the unselfish act and he was very grateful. He had previously been living in a muggle apartment, a muggle job keeping him able to pay the rent, as he wasn't quite ready to proceed into the working class of the wizard world. He never realized it until he was back into the heart of it, but Harry quite disliked the muggle life-style. But, it was far better than dealing with the wizarding world which he wasn't ready to trust. He had spent a year in the muggle world before moving slowly back into the secret world of wizards.  
  
He had become toned and muscular over his years on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but none of that would compare to the strength and muscles he built up living as muggles do. He had to do everything by hand and with his own strength, and it was as if his muscles ate it up like a drug, being deprived of the work for so long. When he moved into Godric's Hollow, he vowed not to let his body go to waste, like he felt the rest of him had. It was something he could control, and he needed as much control as he could.  
  
His first year in Godric's Hollow was a tough one. He had been deprived of the wizarding world for so long that it took him awhile to brush the dust off of his wand and get back into the swing of things. But slowly and surely, part of the old Harry began to escape through his fingertips, and magic became a part of every day life again. Though, he didn't stop with the physical labour.  
  
As years past, Harry grew all too used to life at Godric's. He usually stayed in the comfort of the house, only going out when necessary. He wasn't depressed anymore, he had past that point a long time ago, but now he was just in a kind of trance-like state. He had stopped grooming, more or less. He let his hair grow longer than it usually did, the raven locks covering his eyes and the top half of his ears. He had stopped shaving, but his hair didn't grow much anyway, so he had a bit of a scruffy shadow on his face. He looked worse than he really was, and people were beginning to worry.  
  
As Harry made his way inside, away from the cold that overtook his body so suddenly, he noticed a dark form perched above his door, an eagle owl. He opened the door and let it inside, allowing it to perch next to a sleeping Hedwig. He gave the owl a treat from Hedwig's dish and began to untie the parchment that was tied around it's leg.

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_hope you enjoyed! chapter two will be on it's way soon. hmmm i wonder who's owl that was.... ponders_


	2. Serpent Celebrations

_**I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER  
**this is my first fanfic so please BE NICE WHEN YOU REVIEW XP  
  
_**SLASH AHEAD:: if you don't like... leave!**

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**Chapter 2: Serpent Celebrations  
**"Happy Birthday, Draco," the man said to himself, staring into a bowl of soup that had been sitting in front of him for well over an hour. His beaten reflection peered up at him, dark circles under his eyes, long blonde hair hanging over his face, and a pale complexion, more pale than usual. He stuck his spoon into the cold substance and swirled it around, distorting his image and not eating any of the soup. He wasn't hungry. He never was anymore and his thin form, losing most of it's muscle over the years, was a direct hint at his lack of appetite.  
  
Turning twenty-two should have been a big deal to Draco, but it wasn't. It was like every other birthday, and day for that matter, since he had turned seventeen. Boring, lonesome, and not fun. His whole life wasn't like that, some parts of it were actually enjoyable. But it was five years ago, to this day, Draco's life had made the turn around from okay to just plain awful.  
  
It had been kept a secret, thanks to Dumbledore, that Draco wasn't a Death Eater like everyone assumed him to be. But he had known, ever since he was a child, he didn't want to be anything like his drunken, abusive, father. And since it was Draco's choice when he would join the Death Eaters, if he ever did, Lucius never was suspicious of Draco's loyalty to the Malfoy family.

When Draco had heard rumors, in his fifth year, that Dumbledore had an army ready to face Voldemort, he wanted to be a part of it. Dumbledore, God bless the man, had done everything to protect Draco, all the while allowing him a part of the Order, even though he was so young. Dumbledore saw something in the boy, a mature man inside a young one's body. He knew the struggles Draco had overcome, what with Lucius and all, and he felt that the boy could handle just about anything thrown at him.

Draco played the next two years out as a spy of sorts for Dumbledore, telling the man anything and everything he could about Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Everything was done so well, that no one caught on, and Draco was still the 'normal evil Slytherin git' everyone knew him to be. Until, his seventh year, the day he turned seventeen, the day that Hogwarts was attacked.  
  
He had appeared in Dumbledore's room, not following his fellow Slytherin's when they all got the call from Voldemort. You could say that many of the people, save the professors, were shocked to see him there, and some, including Harry Potter and his friends, didn't trust him. They thought him to be a spy for Voldemort, and voiced their thoughts openly to Dumbledore. He reassured them that "Mr. Malfoy has been on our side since he came to Hogwarts, and he was here to help the side of the light, not the dark." Though, Dumbledore was well respected in Harry's eyes, the boy, and his friends, didn't believe him, and still scowled at Draco.  
  
The fight was horrendous and Draco wasn't prepared for the battle he witnessed. People fell around him, some by response to his own wand, and one of those fallen bodies was none other than his own father. But in the end, when Voldemort had been defeated, it seemed worth it, and Draco was glad he was on the side of good... until he realized what that meant for him.  
  
Instantly, he was rejected by his Slytherin "friends", which wasn't all that bad in his eyes, as he didn't like them in the first place. His mother had more or less, disowned him, and she went crazy and was sent to St. Mungo's soon after, not able to handle the death of Lucius. The people on the good side, the people Draco felt he could make friends with, barely trusted him, still. And the people who would have, Hermione Granger, Draco felt, being one of them, had been sacrificed in the war. Other than Dumbledore, and the elder members of the Order, Draco had been alone.  
  
When he left Hogwarts, in order to keep his mind off his loneliness, and to survive in any way possible, Draco had immediately begun a post at the Ministry, under Dumbledore's orders, as a representative for the Order. Even though Voldemort had been defeated, that didn't mean other Dark Wizards wouldn't rise, and the Order was now a part of the Ministry, in order to help protect the wizarding world from harm. Though, there had been no rumors since the war of any Dark action, and Draco, more or less, had just become an errand boy for Dumbledore. Though, the Ministry still paid him well, so he couldn't complain, really. Within a year he had earned enough money to buy himself a tiny wizard home on the outskirts of London, just big enough for he and his eagle owl, Evanesco. And he had lived there ever since , four years in the same place, same job, same boring life.  
  
And every birthday, Draco would experienced the same loneliness. Dumbledore, and usually Professor Snape, would send him a birthday card, and some sort of tiny present, but other than that, nothing. No visits, no owls, nothing. And this, is why Draco was sitting alone at his kitchen table, staring at himself in a bowl of soup.  
  
Until a tap came upon his window and a familiar bird flew through.  
  
"Hello Fawkes," Draco spoke monotonously to Dumbledore's faithful phoenix. The bird dropped an envelope into Draco's palms and dipped it's beak towards the bowl, giving a gentle caw as to ask permission.  
  
"Go ahead," Draco said in the same tone, "All yours." The bird dipped it's head into the bowl and began sipping the soup quietly as Draco opened the letter.  
  
_**Mr. Malfoy,  
Hello my boy, I am glad to hear that your last owl finds you well. It is my apologies that I have to do this on your birthday, but I have another favor to ask of you.  
  
**Of course,_ Draco thought, _master wishes for me to do another one of his petty servant jobs. _Draco rolled his eyes and continued the letter.  
  
_**It has come to our, the members of the Order and myself, attention that Mr. Potter is not fairing too well.  
  
**St. Potter, _Draco thought miserably, _It's always about St. Harry fucking Potter. _Even though he had "joined forces" with Harry, he still had childish resentment to the boy, though the immense hatred was gone, long gone. He rolled his eyes again and finished reading.**_  
  
Many of us are worried about the man, and we have tried to get him back to the boy he once was. But he isn't responding to our letters anymore, and we need to take brute force. That is why I am sending you, my faithful boy, to go to Godric's Hollow and retrieve him for me, bringing him back to Hogwarts.  
  
_**Draco nearly collapsed upon the floor at Dumbledore's request. _Me... spending time with... Potter?_ But Draco was a mature adult, sort of. And he could complete the task without resorting to childish ways of the past. Maybe. Draco scoffed as he quickly scanned the rest of the letter, which was just Dumbledore prattling on about his time spent in Romania, and threw it into the fire that was roaring across from the kitchen table. He paced the room for a bit, noticing Fawkes was there still, probably waiting for a reply.  
  
So Draco went to the desk in the hall and retrieved a few sheets of parchment and a quill, sitting down back at the kitchen table to write his reply to Dumbledore.  
  
**_Professor Dumbledore,  
It will be my pleasure to bring Potter Mr. Potter to you at Hogwarts. I will leave tomorrow morning and have him to you, hopefully, by tomorrow evening, before dinner, possibly. I am glad to hear you had a nice time in Romania, and I am sorry to hear about the burns that you received from the dragon. I'm sure Poppy will take wonderful care of you, sir.  
  
I will owl Mr. Potter and let him know to pack his things, so he will be ready for me.  
  
Send the members of the Order my hello.  
  
Sincerely,  
Draco Malfoy.  
  
_**Pleased with his letter, filled with the utmost bullshit Draco could possibly think of, he folded it, and placed it inside an envelope. Fawkes instantly took it and Draco patted the bird on his head, "Later Fawkes," he said as the bird flew through the still open window.  
  
Draco sighed, looking down upon the other sheet of parchment, knowing his letter to Potter was to be next. He tapped his quill on the table, thinking of how to start the letter. How _did_ one write a letter to one's childhood enemy? Draco sighed again and placed the quill to the paper.  
  
**_Potter,  
It is under strict orders from Professor Dumbledore and the rest of the Order that I am to pick you up tomorrow at Godric's Hollow and bring you back to Hogwarts to Dumbledore. You are to pack your things and be ready for me. I shall be there in the morning, say, nine. Please be ready, as I have many things to do.  
  
Sincerely,  
Draco Malfoy  
  
_**Another letter full of bullshit. Draco had nothing to do. Ever. He just thought it sounded good, and hoped that Potter would respond to the information and be ready for Draco when he arrived.  
  
He folded the letter and called Evanesco into the room. The owl landed firmly on the table, pleased to be called for a mission. He stuck his chest out arrogantly and waited for Draco to tie the letter to his leg.  
  
"Off you go you arrogant, prat." Draco muttered as the owl flew out the window.  
  
And Draco was alone again.  
  
"Suppose it's up to bed so I can be well rested for tomorrow's hellish deeds," he spoke sarcastically, and to the empty house none the less. He sighed again and walked upstairs to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

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_Thank you to the people who have reviewed!!! I feel so loved. Sorry this wasn't up sooner but was being difficult and I couldn't publish. Chapter 3 on it's way...lalala_


	3. Intruder

_**I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER  
**this is my first fanfic so please BE NICE WHEN YOU REVIEW XP  
  
_**SLASH AHEAD:: if you don't like... leave!**

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**Chapter 3: Intruder  
**The eagle owl had flown out the window hours ago and Harry was sitting at his kitchen table, a blank stare upon his face, and a fire burning away the remains of the letter.  
  
_Another letter, different owl. _Harry thought to himself. Not even bothering to open the letter that the owl had dropped off for him. Dumbledore had tried this tactic one too many times. Sending numerous different birds, one time even a very beautiful tropical bird, and Harry had opened that letter with some foolish hope it was from Sirius. But his face dropped when he opened it, feeling very foolish. He spent that night crying.  
  
So Harry just kept burning the letters. Night after night they would come and night after night Harry would sit long into the morning, never sleeping, watching the flames.  
  
The sun was now coming up in the Hollow, signaling to Harry that it was nearing eight o'clock. He looked at his watch and confirmed that, as he stood up and went to the cupboards to look for something to eat. He pulled out a box of crackers, the only thing in there next to a jar of peanut butter and a bag of sweets. He opened the box and bit into one. _Stale,_ he thought miserably and threw the box into the fire that began roaring heavily again. He slumped into the living room to watch the muggle television he had brought from the apartment. It didn't get very good reception in the Hollow, but he could at least watch the news.  
  
_Note to self: go grocery shopping,_ Harry thought as he sat down and hit the remote.  
  
"The people of London are celebrating this holiday..."  
  
_That's right... Christmas..._ Harry though to himself, sighing heavily as he changed the channel, looking for something that wasn't holiday related.  
  
This would mark the fifth Christmas he had spent alone since Hogwarts. But, he couldn't blame anyone but himself. He was the one who shut the world out, it was all his fault. Though, as the years went by, he found himself wanting to enter the world again, open back up. But he just couldn't. He just wasn't ready.  
  
"And for only two pounds, you can give this child a hope for a better life..."  
  
**_CRACK  
  
_**Harry jumped at the sound. He was familiar with it, the sound of apparation, but he wasn't sure who was in his house.  
  
"Erm... Hello?" He answered warily, slowly making his way to the stairs.  
  
"Dammit," he heard as the angry reply. He didn't recognize the voice, and it frightened him. It wasn't any of the professors, as they knew enough not to apparate _into_ his house. Who the hell was it. He grabbed the fire poker, that was glowing red as he had mistakenly left it in the flames, and slowly made his way upstairs.  
  
"Who the hell is there? I warn you, I have a gun." _Gun... steaming hot metal... whatever._  
  
As Harry rounded the corner, fire poker sticking straight out in front of him, he collided with something hard, a body.  
  
"AHH!" screamed the form flying backwards into the wall, smacking his head hard and collapsing into a heap on the floor. There was a small trickle of blood dripping down the side of his face, probably from impact of the hit.  
  
"Shit," Harry muttered as he made his way to the man.

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_Oooh, that has to hurt... eep!  
_


	4. The Mission

**_I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER  
this is my first fanfic so please BE NICE WHEN YOU REVIEW XP  
  
SLASH AHEAD:: if you don't like... leave! _**

**_

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_ **

Chapter 4: The Mission  
  
**_Tap Tap Tap_**  
  
"Mmmph," muttered Draco into his pillow.  
  
_**Tap Tap Tap  
  
**Bloody owl,_ Draco thought as he kicked the sheets off of his legs and made his way for the window. He passed his clock on the way and noticed that it was only six thirty in the morning. He flung open the window and let the owl in, cursing it as it flew by.  
  
"You couldn't wait, could you?" The owl tutted as it flew to it's cage. Draco slammed shut the iron door and sat down on the edge of his bed, glaring out the window. Why did he feel so miserable? He couldn't understand, but than he remembered.  
  
_Potter_, and he stood up ruffling his hand through his hair. He sighed deeply as he stretched and made his way to the shower, deciding to get ready for his trip to Godrics Hollow.  
  
Once refreshed, cleaned, and donned with fresh clothing, Draco grabbed his robes, and a satchel of gold from the closet. He made his way downstairs. He sat at the desk in his hall way, pondering over a map of sorts that was resting on top of it.  
  
"I can apparate there, but how to get him back..." Draco pondered out loud, pointing to the map. "Ah!" There was a wizarding train station that was about a mile from the Hollow, "And that can get us to Hogsmeade," Draco said aloud, excited that he had figured out a method. He looked at the clock above the door when it chimed eight times.  
  
"Well, here we go, the start of my wonderful day." Draco sighed and closed his eyes, and with a loud **_CRACK_** he was gone and with another loud one, he was on top of a dusty bed.  
  
"Dammit!" he said loudly to himself, and brushed himself off. He climbed off the bed and ventured into the unfamiliar hall way. _  
  
_Who the hell is there? I warn you, I have a gun." He heard from the second floor, as he made his way to the stairs. _What the hell is a gun?_ He thought, but he couldn't find out as he was in the most indescribable pain he had ever felt before.  
  
"AHH!" he screamed as he flew backwards out of the pain, but only hit his head hard on the wall, and than, everything went very dark as Draco heard a faint, "Shit," muttered from somewhere.

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_  
Those silly, naive wizards with their "What's a gun..." wait... what's a gun? plays with wand  
  
And lucky you... two chapters at once. This makes up for my cruelty at NOT UPDATING... euh... so sorry but school is starting soon and my summer reading project hadn't begun until a few days ago. I am a huge procrastinator... I promise a new chapter soon... we need some interaction with teh boys... hmmm_


	5. Mediwizard

_**I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER  
**this is my first fanfic so please BE NICE WHEN YOU REVIEW XP  
  
_**SLASH AHEAD:: if you don't like... leave!**

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**Chapter 5: Mediwizard  
**It didn't take Harry long to recognize the person who was strewn across his floor, in a shallow pool of blood. The white-blonde hair, the pale complexion, those stormy-grey eyes.  
  
"Malfoy?!" He exclaimed, to no one really, because Malfoy was far from conscious at the moment. Numerous thoughts flooded through Harry's head. The one's coming out on top were that Malfoy was still with the infamous Death Eaters, who were slowly making a comeback, and he was their fearful leader. So, Harry just left him there, turning around and heading down the stairs.  
  
_He was going to attack me. It was self defense. _Harry thought as he took the stairs slowly. _Not my fault he apparated into my house._ But a small hint of guilt plagued Harry as he thought up every excuse to justify the injured man at the top of his stairs, for he knew deep down Malfoy was on their side, though he hated to believe it. With an exasperated sigh he turned back around up the stairs and went over to the man who was lying on his floor.  
  
He reached underneath Malfoy and picked him up, surprised to find him so light in his arms. He walked into his room, that he hadn't been in for many nights, and pushed away the covers, noting the small dent and clearing of dust in the center where Malfoy must have landed. He gently lay him down, and walked into his bathroom.  
  
He pulled off four bottles and lay them on the nightstand next to his bed. Out of his back pocket he pulled out his wand. As he pulled it out he looked at it like it was the most amazing piece of magic he had ever laid eyes upon. _  
  
How thick can I get?_ He thought, disgusted with the fact that he forgot all about his wand when an intruder was thrown into his house. Though in this case, it was probably a good thing, because with the amount of threat Harry had endured when he was walking up those stairs, fire poker outstretched, he could have killed poor Malfoy.  
  
_Hah, poor... yea right. _He scoffed out loud and rolled his eyes. He looked down at Malfoy on the bed, gave a heavy sigh, than began his work.  
  
In his many visits to the hospital wing at Hogwarts, he had learned a lot of things from Madaam Pompfrey. It got to the point that if he had minor injuries, such as broken bones or cuts and wounds, he wouldn't even go to Madaam Pompfrey, because he could heal them himself.  
  
So Malfoy's injuries were nothing new to Harry. First thing he did was mutter a spell to close the wound on Malfoy's head, wiping away the blood with the edge of his sleeve, Malfoy's sleeve that is. Than he opened Malfoy's mouth, pouring in a thick yellow liquid, which would help the swelling go down on the back of his head. Next, Harry looked down to the huge hole he had burned into Malfoy's robes.  
  
_Well, they are already ruined,_ He thought as he stuck his two index fingers into the hole, and ripped apart the boy's robes, shirt, and undershirt. Amazingly it all came apart very easily, as if it were made with cheap material. _  
  
_"So much for that fine Italian silk," Harry said, mocking the rich life Harry thought all Malfoy's to have.  
  
He poured a little bit of a blue liquid from one bottle, and a little more of a green liquid from another onto his hands and moved them over the burn, that had now begun to scab over Malfoy's pale stomach. Instantly the burn disappeared, as if it were being vacuumed up. Harry wiped his hands on a piece of cloth, again, Malfoy's robes, and closed up the potion bottles, putting them back in his cupboard over the sink.  
  
He stood at the sink, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He never noticed it before, but there were huge black circles under his eyes, a consequence of him not sleeping anymore. His shaggy hair, and slightly shadowed face reminded him a little of Sirius. He closed his eyes and gripped the edge of the sink tightly, shaking thoughts of Sirius away from his mind. But as soon as he opened his eyes again, he was face to face with the reflection of the only family he knew and loved. His fist slammed hard into the mirror, shattering it into tiny glass shards all over the bathroom. He cursed under his breath, and just wrapped a towel around his hand, not bothering to tend to his wounds.

He quickly walked out of the room, leaving Malfoy behind, and made his way downstairs and outside, to the woods behind the house.

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_Who would've known that Harry had such a talent for medical healing... plays the song sexual healing... it's coming... all in good time... all... in good time...  
  
And quite sorry for the lack of updates... but now that I have successfully finished the summer reading project, I am free to write... until school starts Tuesday... cries_


	6. Reflections

_**I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER  
**this is my first fanfic so please BE NICE WHEN YOU REVIEW XP  
  
**SLASH AHEAD:: if you don't like... leave!** _

_

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**Chapter 6: Reflections  
**_Someone's touching me... who's touching me?_  
  
Draco could feel hands on his stomach, which he realized didn't have clothes on it.  
  
_Why can't I move... why are my eyes closed? I CAN'T SEE!  
  
_Panic raged through his body, but it didn't respond. He couldn't feel anything but the hands on him. He didn't know where he was, why he was undressed, and most importantly,  
  
_WHO IS TOUCHING ME?!  
  
_Like a curse that had been lifted by Draco's panicked thoughts, the hands removed themselves and he could hear bottles clinging.  
  
_I've been poisoned._ Draco thought, as his eyes slowly opened. And with the sight of the room, everything came back to him. _Potter..._ his thoughts sneered. He remembered the mission Dumbledore sent him on and apparating to Godrics Hollow landing on this very bed, venturing out into the hall, being hit with the most excruciating pain he had ever felt. _I hate guns._ He thought, remembering Harry's warning.  
  
But as he looked down at his stomach, nothing was there. And he felt no more pain in his head. _A dream?_ But it couldn't have been a dream, because Draco was lying in Harry's bed. _Oh god... _was all he could think as the most horrifying thoughts passed through his mind, thoughts he didn't want to think of. _We didn't, he wouldn't... he's not... _But Draco's train of thoughts where derailed as he heard a loud smash and saw Harry brush out the door.  
  
Instinctively, Draco stood and followed, shirtless and confused. He tumbled down the stairs, watching the boy leave through a back door. He fumbled in his pocket for his wand, just in case, and opened the door, following out into the deep woods.  
  
Now, Draco wasn't a sissy, no, far from it. But ever since that night in the Forbidden Forest his first year at Hogwarts, he was a little... hesitant... to set foot in woods, daylight or not. He stood at the edge of the woods, keeping a keen eye on Harry, and took a deep breath. He traipsed in after him, making a whole lot of noise, on purpose, in hopes that anything coming his way to attack would get scared.  
  
Harry kept walking, until he hit a clearing about thirty feet away from Draco. Draco stopped walking and watched the man, curious as to what he was doing. Harry sat down on a flat rock, curled his knees up to his chest, and buried his face in his arms.  
  
_He's crying..._ Draco thought. A look of concern swept over his face. Draco was sure Harry was at least mid twenties, but the way he sat there, curled up on the rock, he looked like a little boy, so lost and so confused. There was a pain in Draco's heart, and he wasn't sure why.  
  
_It's Potter,_ he thought angrily, _get a hold of yourself. _But try as he might, his thoughts kept going back to the poor, helpless, little child that let himself go on the rock. He stood there, hidden behind a tree, watching with wonder as Harry dripped his sorrow onto his knees. The way he sat there was almost angelic.  
  
_AH! No... not angelic... pitiful._ Draco corrected in his thoughts. As he stood there, in awe of the boy, he didn't notice a tiny little mouse scurrying past his feet. Until he felt it.  
  
"AHH BLOODY HELL!!! WHAT IS IT GET IT AWAY!" He screamed, running into the clearing, and disturbing a wildly distraught, confused, and now very angry Harry.

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_  
Draco the bloody coward had to ruin the moment... Oh you don't think I would have let them get away with that sweetness would you? Oh man Harry's pissed eyes glow red... must... read.... next.... chapter.... lol  
  
And sorry my chapters are so short... it's just how it is... You understand... deal with it... lol_


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